


My Verona

by Major



Category: 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Ghosts, Humor, Nighttime, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Major/pseuds/Major
Summary: Kat and Patrick check out an abandoned warehouse.





	My Verona

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prinzenhasserin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/gifts).



The abandoned warehouse looked exactly as impressive as a large empty building with a questionable mold situation would, but Kat felt a thrill of excitement anyway as they stepped inside.  They had to wait until after she got out of a long day of work.  The sun was down, and they had to depend on flashlights since electricity wasn't on at that location yet.

The realtor had left them with the key and opted to wait for them outside, which she first attributed to him being courteous so they could have some privacy while looking the place over.  Now, after casting the flashlight beam around the cobwebs and shadowed pillars down the way, she was thinking it had more to do with abject cowardice.

It wasn't a huge space, but it was a lot bigger than the last hole-in-the-wall location they had looked at.  It would need a lot of work done on it before Patrick could open his auto shop there if he decided to go with it, so she looked to him for an informed opinion on its potential.

"I like it."  His flashlight was pointed straight up at a large skylight in the center of the ceiling.  "That would cut down on the electric bill.  I smell old sweat and oil but not the decay of bodies hidden in the walls.  What more could a guy ask for?"

She did not smile.  Smiling too much gave Patrick the misguided idea that he was actually funny.

Walking slowly down the big, open area, steps echoing quietly around them, she peeked around pillars and strained her hearing for signs of a rodent infestation.

"The down payment is really low."  They had to be pragmatic about this.  Most new businesses failed.  Location and function were integral to a good start.  "You'd definitely have to get it inspected.  Prices like that come with a catch."

"About that."

She turned and pointed her light in his face with that look he got when he didn't want to admit he'd lost their concert tickets in a poker game with Cameron (not a hypothetical, sadly) or forgot that it wasn't always appropriate to mention how she flashed someone to get him out of detention back in high school.

"What?" she asked warily.

Scratching the back of his neck, he shrugged and displayed his dimples since they tended to get him out of trouble.  "There was a tiny, hardly-worth-mentioning, very minimal murder here that lowered the market value."

"What!"

"Besides, it was ten years ago.  Isn't there a statute of limitations on how long it's necessary to dwell on every little murder that price-chops a place?"

"Every?  How many were there?"

"One," he replied.  Then clarified, "Plus four."

Five people died there!

"Patrick!"

"What, I was going to tell you!  But you wouldn't even go to Reign of Terror with me last Halloween.  How was I going to get you here?"

"That wasn't out of fear," she objected.  "I didn't go to Reign of Terror because haunted house attractions are stupid and I had a rally that night."

"The rally you organized _after_ I asked you about Reign of Terror, that rally?  The convenient excuse not to admit you're a scaredy-Kat rally."

Hand up, she twisted back around.  "Shut up.  I wasn't scared."

Nor would she ever admit that she was in this lifetime.

Patrick chuckled and came over, spreading his arms out wide.  "Well, what do you think?  Murder aside, it could work, right?"

Kat wasn't used to putting murders aside, but she did to give the place a real shot.  The bare bones were good.  The skylight was beautiful (or would be after it was cleaned) and somehow undamaged after years of abandonment.  There wasn't even any graffiti inside or out that was immediately visible.  There were separate hangars that would work well for Patrick's needs with the cars coming in, and there was an office in the back that she wandered over to.  The hinges creaked loudly, sending goosebumps up her arms, but that was easily fixed with interior remodeling or a can of oil if they went cheap.

The office was small, but there was room for a desk and filing cabinets and a tool shelf.  She could see Patrick in there working on the annoying paperwork part of the business before he could go work with his hands again like he liked best.  It was a great image.  She wanted it for him, whether it was here or somewhere else, a place where he could be happy and be his own boss.

Turning in the doorway, she looked up at him.  Their lowered flashlights sent a soft glow of light up under their chins.  She smiled.

"I like it."

His eyes went to her quickly and sharpened.  "You do?"

"I do."

The dimples came out, the ones he used against her during fights.

"And," she conceded, "it would be ridiculous to pass on such a good deal just because the place has an... interesting history."

His hands found their way to her hips as he moved closer.  "We'll get it blessed."

"And exorcised," she teased in agreement, and he was still smiling when he kissed her.

She hardly got her arms around his neck before a loud knock outside the office startled them apart.  Her first thought was the realtor had decided to make an appearance, but leaning sideways for a look revealed nobody there.  Casting her flashlight side to side showed nothing but an empty, looming warehouse around them.  Possible rodent situation after all?

Patrick suddenly spider-crawled his fingers up her stomach, and she jumped.  His laughter was shelved away to receive payback later.

He started whistling a song that instantly earwormed her, and the song was too close to a future jingle to ignore.  Patrick turned slowly inside the office to look at the three windowed walls that looked out into the rest of the warehouse.

Kat crossed her arms.  "You're not really going to let Michael make a commercial for you where he changes the lyrics to My Sharona to 'My Verona', right?  That's not a thing you're going to let happen?"

With a perfunctory nod and absolutely no shame, he said, "Oh, that's happening.   _M-m-m-my Verona!_  My business is going to thrive when that ad comes out."

The perk of Michael getting into short films and deciding to go to film school after graduating from MIT and deciding he wasn't on the right path after all, was that he really could help Patrick with the local ad idea that she approved of.  It was the planning stage so far that she had a problem with.

"Just to be clear, if you're _in_ that commercial, we can no longer be together."

He spun around on his heel and shone the flashlight in her face.  She frowned and threw her hand up to block it.  "Is that right?  I thought you didn't care what people think."

That was true.

"I don't.  I care what I think.  And I think anything that forfeits your dignity so thoroughly, automatically forfeits our relationship.  I'm standing up for my integrity as much as your own."

"Ahh.  Right, yeah."

She turned to go, but he came up behind her and pulled her back against him, crooning Sharona in her ear just to annoy the hell out of her, "Never gonna stop, give it up, such a dirty mind—"

" _Stop._ "  She twisted an arm back to pat at his face and try to cover his mouth, though the smothered lyrics kept coming.  "A man only has his weak and meager dignity to begin with.  You shouldn't throw it away so easily."

He freed his mouth with a shake of his head and persisted, burying his face in the crook of her neck.  She tried unsuccessfully to wiggle out of his grip.  "Come a little closer, huh, a-will ya, huh?"

"You're a terrible singer."

"I'm not."

She looked over her shoulder at him, and he leaned down enough to kiss her.  She allowed it but only to shut him up.  Twisting her arm up and around his neck loosely was just a necessary and unfortunate measure required to stop the singing.

She tippy-toed and caught his lips again as he started to pull back, and his arms closed more tightly around her middle as he happily obliged, deepening the kiss.  And shutting up.  Which was the point.

A metallic whine at the entrance made them jerk apart.

One of the shutter doors to the main bay had started to crank closed, rolled a foot or two down towards the ground but still with plenty of room to walk out.

"Is that our cue to hurry up?" she asked.

The light outside was broken, and she couldn't make out their realtor, Mr. Samuels, in the blackness outside so walked over to peer out.  He was nowhere around as she scanned the area outside.  Their cars sat alone in the otherwise empty parking lot that was in need of repairs where the pavement had cracked and let grass and weeds grow through.  There were crickets chirping in the trees beyond it, and it was almost peaceful if not for the chill in the air.

Patrick tapped her shoulder a couple of times.

"The worst part about this place is the location.  It might be hard to attract business," she started to say but cut herself off when she turned and saw Patrick nowhere in sight.

Hinges creaked at the back of the warehouse, and she jumped, swinging her eyes in that direction.  Patrick was standing all the way across the big open bay, still lingering by the office where he stepped out.  Her hand flew to her shoulder where she could still feel the two solid taps of someone's finger poking her.  She looked around the warehouse quickly, but no one was there.  The darkness took on an ominous feeling that sent chills up her arms.

Behind Patrick, the office door slammed shut.  Kat hardly had time to flinch before the shutter door at her back rolled down rapidly in a loud clanking unraveling before shutting against the concrete with an echoing thud.  Gasping, she stumbled away from it and twisted back towards the inner warehouse as a slow, grating _eeeek_ ricocheted throughout the cavernous empty space like fingernails on glass.

She and Patrick looked up and up to the big skylight in the ceiling.  Under the glow of moonlight, five thin lines appeared on one end of the window and stretched straight across like warm skin against frosted glass.  Patrick was in mildly more control of himself than she was, because his eyes never left the ceiling, but he slowly made his way across the warehouse to her side.  The lines weren't just dragging.  They were making words:

M-Y

V

E

R

O

N

A

The battery in Kat's mind stalled and refused to start.  She gaped with a sort of hostile disbelief.  The creaking stopped at the same time the lines stopped stretching, and the shadows behind the pillars flickered like something tall and dark had run behind them.

The shutter door behind her began a noisy, steady crank back open, and it was to her immense credit that her heart didn't stop on the spot.

Mr. Samuels was standing there with a pleasant smile.  "You guys ready?"

She and Patrick locked eyes, a shocked, silent agreement passing between them to immediately begin the complicated process to not believe what just happened.

Patrick started, "Maybe we should..."

"Check out the second property."

"Yeah."

Kat grabbed his hand, and they hurried out past a startled Samuels as their quick steps turned into a half run to the car without looking back.


End file.
